


The Gift

by Karri



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:17:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18283982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karri/pseuds/Karri
Summary: Arwen is reminded of the fragility of mortal life.





	The Gift

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

"I was surprised that you didn't bring the children with you," Arwen heard Eowyn remark and registered that she was, again – for the umpteenth time, staring off in the direction of home.

"I would happily have come to you, as well, if it was only my company that you sought," Eowyn continued, as her Queen reluctantly redirected her gaze. The plants they were gathering would be useful, certainly, but they were nothing that could not have been obtained in the gardens of the Houses of Healing.

Arwen smiled appreciatively. Yet the expression was half-hearted, at best, and filled with resignation, earning a raised-eyebrow from her companion.

"There is more to your visit, I think…" Eowyn prodded.

Arwen sighed, reluctant to explain, as the argument had left her feeling somewhat childish.  _Perhaps, though, another opinion on the matter would ease my mind,_ she decided after moment, and, meeting her friend's expectant gaze, explained, "Elessar has insisted that I must allow the nurse to tend to the children more freely. He says it is the way of the nobility of Gondor, and though he did not insist with our first, he says that I have lived as a Gondorian long enough now that I must adapt to the customs of this land and live no longer by the customs of the Eldar."

"I am certain our venture would have tolerated the addition of a nurse," Eowyn replied. "The open air is good for children…"

Arwen nodded appreciatively. "It is, and I would happily have brought them all along with me, but Elessar insisted… He says the nurse cannot do her job properly if she does not believe I trust in her abilities and that to demonstrate trust, I must allow her time alone with the children."

"Do you?" Eowyn asked.

"Trust the nurse?" Arwen clarified, and Eowyn nodded. "Yes…" Arwen answered, tentatively. "I believe she is capable. She is kind, also, and good with the children…"

"But…" Eowyn prodded.

"But…" Arwen echoed, with a sigh, then with a deep breath, added, "it is not the way of the Eldar, to leave the rearing of our children to others. Children are scarce and, thus, precious to us…I mean, them," Arwen corrected herself, remembering abruptly that she could not longer count herself as Eldar.

Eowyn looked askance at this. "I have not met many Men who would not consider their children precious to them, as well."

Arwen bit her lip, abashedly, "I did not mean offense, my dear friend. It is only…I am…" She sighed, uncertain of how to explain without further insult.

"You were unprepared for how great the small differences in custom feel when it is you who must adapt?" Eowyn finished for her, knowingly.

Arwen nodded, smiling appreciatively as she comprehended that her friend shared empathized, to some degree at least. "Yet, I suppose, I must grant that tending to more than one babe without neglecting other duties  _is_  difficult. I know not how my own mother managed it with my brothers."

"And with you?" Eowyn inquired. She was four years younger than her brother, which was handful enough, and there'd been only the two of them to manage.

"Nay," Arwen answered. "My brothers were well grown before I was born."

"Ah," Eowyn began to reply, but was distracted as her gaze fell upon a horse in the distance.

Following her friend's gaze, Arwen, too, spotted the horse. "What is that upon its back," she pondered aloud, as the two moved to intercept the animal. As they drew near, Arwen could see plainly that the lump resting upon the horse was actually a man, slumped over and barely clinging to the mane.

The royal escort ascertained as much, as well, and rushed forward to intercept man and horse ahead of either Arwen or Eowyn. The smell of the man reached them before they reached him.

"Dysentery?" Arwen mused, as the smell met her nose. She had aided her father more than once when such outbreaks had occurred in the North, still she could not stop her nose from wrinkling. The escort, as well, had covered their noses and mouths with their gloved hands, and also, Arwen noticed with displeasure, had backed away from the horse.  _We cannot simply leave him,_  she determined and stepped forward to take matters in hand.

"Please, my Queen," the Captain insisted, gesturing Arwen back again. "I will tend to him."

Arwen nodded, willing to stand back so long as  _someone_  tended the fellow, and watched attentively as the Captain eased the man down to the ground. She wondered at first if the fellow still lived. His grayish skin and sunken eyes certainly gave no indication of it. But before she could inquire, a weak whisper, hardly more than a breath of a sound, begged, "Help."

"Easy, man," the Captain soothed. "We will do what we can for you."

The fellow shook his head weakly and gasped out, "Nay, not me! My family! My family!"

A sob stopped him from saying more, and Arwen could stand it not longer. Rushing past the escort, she knelt beside the man. He was not long for the world, she could plainly see.  _He must have given all he had left riding for aid,"_ she realized, her stomach clenching as she wondered about the state of his family.  _For, surely, had any been in better shape than he, they would have been sent in his place._

"Help…them…," the man gasped out with his finally breathe, his pallid eyes meeting Arwen's only briefly before rolling back into his head.

"No!" she cried aloud. "Your family! Where are they?"

"They live not far…a small cabin just over yonder ridge," Eowyn answered, moving up behind Arwen. Her friend gazed up at her, questioningly. "I have met him before, though I do not know him well. He fought alongside Faramir and was, thus, granted a small parcel of land to settle after he laid down his sword."

Arwen nodded. "We must help them if we can," she instructed. "Leave him for now. His family is of greater urgency."

Thus, with reluctance, the escort led their Queen and Lady Eowyn to a small cabin. The smell of death and sickness reached them long before they reached the door, and the escort hesitated upon the threshold.

Frustrated, Arwen turned toward Eowyn, but found, to her surprise, that her friend, too, seemed reluctant to approach.  _I shall not abandon this poor family,_ Arwen determined, and, with a huff, moved forward, intending to brush past her escort and through the door. The Captain, though, stepped in her path before she could enter.

"Nay, my Queen, wait a moment, I beg you!" he insisted. "Let me go first…"

Arwen nodded, reluctantly shuffling back a few paces. She fidgeted impatiently as she waited for him to return and allow her entry. Yet when he appeared again in the doorway, she found herself wishing he'd kept her waiting forever, for in his arms, he held a wee babe, not much older than her youngest. Even bundled as it was, she could see a grayish hue to the skin that made her stomach clench.

"Is it…? Arwen began to ask, but could not make herself finish the question. Elven children did not die. That was not wholly true, of course, as she knew it. She had heard the tales of old – Elured and Elurin, the fall of Doriath and Gondolin and other elven kingdoms of old. Children had been murdered, but they didn't just die!

"I am not sure," the Captain admitted. Stepping forward, concern for the babe in his arms overcoming caution, he handed the child to Arwen.

She nearly held her breath as she examined the child. Unwrapping it enough to rub at the small chest, Arwen tried desperately to elicit a response, no matter how slight. Finally, tiny eyelids fluttered weakly, though the eyes did not open.  _Still, it is not long for this world if I do not act fast,_ she thought, for the baby was clearly extremely dehydrated. Sticking a finger in its mouth, Arwen prayed it would at least attempt to suckle, no matter how weakly, for if it did not, she doubted there was ought anyone, even Elessar or her father, were he still in Middle-earth, could do to save the child. The babe gave no response, though, and Arwen sunk slowly to her knees. Clingly tightly to the child, she stared into the small face, seeing her own wee babe's face before her as she felt the last of the child's life slip away.

Around her, she was vaguely aware of movement, of Eowyn's cry as the mother and another child was brought from the house and graves were dug. She heard the voices as Eowyn instructed the escort to bring the father's body, so that he could be buried with his family. She felt the hands that finally took the babe from her arms so that it could be buried with its mother. It was all a fog of activity, though, barely registering.

A part of her mind realized somewhere between the cabin and the gate into Minas Tirith that she'd been loaded onto a wagon and brought home. Still, it was not until she'd been led into the Houses of Healing that the fog in her mind cleared and reality struck as though a bolt of lightning. Breaking free from the hands steadying her, Arwen fled to her own quarters, shouting as she ran for boiling water to be brought to her.

She was hardly aware of the time it took for the demand to be met, busy as she was stripping off her clothing and tossing them into a pile to be burned. In her mind, she could still see only her own children's faces, pallid, dying of an illness she'd brought home to them. Thus, when the steaming pot arrived, it came almost as a surprise to her. Still, she wasted little time in dousing her hands in it. They were quickly pulled out again by a person she'd not even registered was present.

Hands held hers tightly, turning them around to see if she'd scalded herself, as other hands covered her with a robe, but Arwen soon jerked free. Without bothering to see from whom she fled, Arwen turned toward the nursery.

Her panic finally eased as she entered the quiet room, the soft sounds of sleeping babes soothing her soul more than any words could have. Arwen moved swiftly toward a crib and stopped. Leaning lightly against it as the pent up tension released from her muscles and left her feeling weak-kneed, she softly stroked the dark, downy soft curls of her eldest babe; she seemed so big now next to the new babe, yet she was still so small.

Arwen stood for a while, watching the small chest move rhythmically, before a quiet mewing from the other crib sent her feet moving in the direction of younger babe. She was so tiny still, smaller even than the child who'd…who'd… Arwen could not even think it. Instead, she reached carefully for her own babe, rocking lightly as she carried her to a rocking chair and sat.

Humming softly, she gazed into the tiny face, memorizing yet again every curve. So intent was she on the task, Arwen didn't realize she'd begun to cry until rough hands brushed the tears from her cheeks. Glancing up, she found Elessar kneeling beside her.

"The Captain told me what happened," he said softly. "I am sorry for the anguish it is causing you."

Arwen shook her head. "Nay, do not be sorry, my love," she replied, returning her gaze to her babe. "It has helped me comprehend, more I than I had before, I think, the gift of Men."

"The gift?" Elessar queried, his brow furrowing.

"Yes, my love," Arwen answered. "I lived so long as Eldar and saw time pass and the world change, but we did not. There was no need to cherish every moment, for there were infinitely more moments to spend together."

"And then that was lost to you," Elessar added, pensively.

"It was," Arwen replied. "Yet, though I knew it, my love for you burned so bright, I did not feel it wholly, I think."

"And now…?" Elessar asked, hesitantly, a part of him wondering if she now regretted her choice.

Something in his voice brought Arwen's gaze back to her husband and she freed a hand to gently stroke his cheek. "Ever more bright it burns, my love," she assured. "And now, I think, I understand the gift given to me in choosing you," she continued. "The gift of Men, I think, is in the shortness of their time in the world."

"That is the  _gift_?" Elessar asked, perplexed.

"Indeed," responded his wife. "For I am able to cherish this moment, and the next, and then next, more now, knowing the moments are fleeting, than ever I was able when the moments were infinite. Do you see?"

Elessar nodded slowly.

"And that, my love, is a beautiful gift," Arwen finished, smiling through the tears that still fell.

"It is, indeed," Elessar agreed, returning the smile.

"Now, about the nurse…"

The end.


End file.
